Innocence
by Acromania
Summary: "I am aware that she is like a dream come true and some part of me is deeply satisfied with finding her. The other is raging because she probably used knifes, a hammer and her own feet to torture a woman to death." AU/Eris
1. Prologue

_A/N: Dear readers, thank you for taking a look at this. To be honest: I am not sure when I will update this story and the only reason why I put this online already is because I want to see what you think of it. If it is worth writing._

_As always: Much love and many hugs for my beta Torry-Riddle._

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Veronica Roth does._

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**Prologue**

I lean back against the headboard of my bed, legs crossed at the ankles, whiskey glass half-full resting in my hands in my lap. Its three am in the morning but I can't find sleep, the TV my companion throughout the night. My hand searches for the remote in the depths of my sheets, thumb easily finding the button to switch channels and I start to zapp through them because my brain is too educated and still to wide awake to longer put up with the talk show currently playing.

I thought listening to other people's problems could rescue me from my own thoughts and the bitterness I feel. And from the freaking uselessness in my bones, dammit. I hoped that listening to their problems would make me feel better about mine, would make mine appear to be not as important or not as heartwrenching. The only thing it did though was make me scowl at the stupidity of the people living on this planet and clarify that yes, my life is fucked up ready to be taken.

When I stopped hoping for the alleviation of my problems with others I started to hope that their mindless chatter and monotone voices would lull me to sleep, bore me out of my mind and all it did was make me get up and search for alcohol. I take a gulp from my glass again, emptying it for the third time. I would give anything for a joint now.

"You are still up?" I hear someone ask from my door and see my roommate clad only in his boxershorts, hair messy and marks from his pillow on his left cheek.

"I am still partying hard, what do you think." I answer him, taking the bottle from my nightstand and refill my glass. Seriously, I could just drink right from the bottle but I am still too civilized to do that. But not too long from it a part of me thinks. I look to my roommate again and envy him. The life he has with the person he wants. Bullshit feelings, I think and gulp down more whiskey. The cheap sort, burning the throat.

"Eric.." He says again and I feel my hands clench.

"Don't," is all I can say, jaw squared, teeth gritted painfully. My eyes are fixed on the screen, zapping through channels, pictures rushing infront of my eyes.

"Its just... could you please stop this behavior? I don't know you anymore..." He sounds desperate and worried. I feel that a part of me is sorry that he has to put up with me like this. Another part argues that I had to do much more for him at one point in his life and he could be fucking grateful for just one moment. I tune out this part because its unfair – he is my friend and its not his fault. None of it. And it isn't my fault as well. I wish there would be a person I could blame.

I halt in my movements when I see her face on display in the news. I press the button to turn up the volume and stare at her eyes. The picture doesn't do her justice one bit and I grit my teeth.

"Its the third week in the process of the murder of Jeanine Matthews and signs are good that the jury will come to a decision soon..." Without thinking my thumb presses down on the power button. Hard. I hear the remote slowly breaking in my hand. _Signs are good... _Fucking idiots.

"She will die. They will find her guilty." I hear myself say, voice rough.

"You don't know that." He answers and he seems to know just like I do that he could have saved the breath. Empty words and meaningless phrases won't save her.

"Please. I am a detective and so are you. I know what they will see because its what we saw." I answer him anyway to not stay in silence. The silence will be dangerous.

"You saw her innocence right from the beginning." He says and all I can do is hang my head.

"It doesn't matter anymore. In not more then five days, they will sentence her to death." And my own innocence that I thought was lost long before I met her will be put to death as well.

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_Thanks for reading - review please._


	2. Chapter 1

_A/N: Thank you for the favorits/follows and the really nice reviews. Here is the second chapter and I hope you enjoy it. Note: Please be aware that this isn't beta-ed yet. Furthermore: I don't know when I will update again._

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Veronica Roth does._

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**Chapter 1**

I push myself up from my bed, hands running over my face to chase away the remaining tiredness, my already not acceptably long beard scratching my palms and feeling uncomfortable against my skin. 5:30 am is far too early in my opinion to begin anyone's day but I have my rules and keep to them. One of my rules is to not get attached to any case I have to investigate. It's my first and most important rule. If I had known that this would be the easiest rule to break I wouldn't have bothered to come up with it just after I left the academy.

I stretch my arms above my head, feel the ache in my muscles from yesterdays training and scratch my chest. My fingertips brush against the silver change with the '_E_' on it my mother gave me when I graduated, a memory of my six years younger sister long dead. She would be 24 this December. _Ten years_, I think when I stand up, hand brushing through my short hair and chase away the memories.

I more stumble than walk over to my bathroom, my toe painfully meeting the edge of the doorframe. I curse violently – my bad luck, the early morning, my sleeping circle – and hate my half-awake state. I should probably stop drinking coffee late in the evening but it's the last thing I have left after my wild teenage years full of capers and excesses to forget and first years as a tween a bit tuned down but still lived to the fullest.

But I guess at the age of 30 and as a detective nonetheless you can't just lay stoned on your couch after a stressful day. I sigh. Sometimes I miss those times when my roommate and I would sit in our dorm at the university, smoking the second or third head and watch stupid but hilarious movies like _Wayne's World _replaying the car scene and singing along to _Bohemian Rhapsody_ again and again, laughing our asses off at the jokes of Wayne and Garth.

The memory elevates my mood a bit and after emptying my painfully full bladder, bracing one of my hands against the ugly dark yellow tiling to keep upright I take the risk of looking into the mirror. Grey eyes, the shadows under them not as pronounced anymore. My hand goes to my jaw and cheeks, gauging if I need to make time to trim my facial hair before going to work and decide that yes, to look acceptable and not like the hobo I feel I am I have to. That and I don't want to hear stupid remarks from my colleagues.

My hand glides down over my tattoos, a silly idea I got one night while of course being stoned and pissed. After that night I learned I had to decide: weed or vodka, weed winning hands down. My friend living with me should have stopped me from doing something so stupid but was too occupied making out with that girl we came across after leaving our favorite bar _The Pit _that was located not too far away from _Dauntless Police Academy_.

When I woke up the next morning, calling my tattoo artist to politely inquire why the fuck she agreed to doing it, her chuckle hurt my hangovered head and she replied with a '_Well, sweetheart, you threatened me with staying until you get it and as much as I like looking at your ass I didn't want to take up with you in my shop the whole night_'. I groaned and when the chief saw the results of my stupid idea he just shook his head and told me to be lucky that I was so brilliant in my job otherwise he would have kicked me out to the _punks –_ yes, he was a person like that – where I belonged.

Pulling on some socks, long black sweatpants and a sleeveless black shirt I make my way out of my bedroom, the scent of coffee helping me find the way into our kitchen. I hear my roommate and partner since our academy days a long six years ago is already awake, brewing himself coffee I find too lax. He gets two cups so his girlfriend is probably here as well.

"Morning." I mumble, sit down on a chair in our kitchen and start to lace my running shoes.

"Morning, Eric. Slept well?" He asks and I growl at him. He chuckles in response.

"When do you start looking for a flat again?" I ask, leaning back in the chair and smirking at his scowl.

"When you decide to get yourself someone to take care of you because you can't." He replies, our expression exchanged now. I want to reply but a yawn interrupts me and he chuckles again.

"I see." Is all he says, takes the two steaming mugs and makes his way down the corridor to his room. Lucky fellow has a girlfriend to get some from and I groan slightly when I remember my last time with a woman that could hold my interest long enough to get me into her bedroom. Too far in the past, I think and stand up.

It's not like I wouldn't get enough offers whenever my partner and I decide to go out for a beer or two but all of those women are boring, fake. Dull, really. I don't know what I am looking for and seriously, it's not like I have to stay with them after the night we share, but maybe it comes down to my age again. I don't look for hot nights in tangled sheets, a part of me ready to find something stable, a soft body to come home to, a mind to hold up with me and ground me. Maybe even someone strong-willed enough to stand her ground against the bullshit I pull or the rollercoasters I live through. '_Its time to settle down with someone, to start a family_' my mind says and sounds suspiciously like a strange mixture of my own and my mother's voice.

Grabbing my dark blue pullover from the coat hanger I make my way out of our flat in the middle of Chicago and forget about my none-existing life outside of work. I will end up being the uncle and bad role model for my partner's children anyway. I smirk at the thought, my brain coming up with different ideas even though I don't think they will have children in the next two years or so. He is the conservative type and will marry her before starting a family. I think he can be lucky to have met me when he moved to Chicago in senior year of high school otherwise he would still be a virgin what with his upbringing and past.

Rain greets me when the apartment block's door falls heavily into its frame and I scowl, pulling up the hood over my woolen black hat. I clench and unclench my hands for a moment, my airways slowly getting accustomed to the coldness of autumn. I start my run along high blocks of middle class apartments, grey concrete slippery under the soles of my shoes. It's still dark but I don't mind it too much because it also means to be undisturbed by too many people on the sidewalks. My route leads me along the Navy Pier most attractions already closed because it's late October and Chicago weather won't allow anyone to enjoy the amusement park. A fresh wind picks up, letting cold water drop down my collar along my tattooed neck and I shiver slightly.

I hate my principals, I think for a moment before snorting at it. They may be uncomfortable sometimes, but they make me the man I am and I am proud of myself, some would say narcissistically so. But they don't know me and I don't bother to correct them. If they would be important in my life they would know me good enough without me having to explain myself.

Halfway through my run I shortly stop at the railing, overlooking Lake Michigan as I stretch my calves and thighs. The water is a stormy dark grey, the waves against the Pier high enough to soak my shoes and the lower part of my sweatpants. I ignore the cold and meet the wind, closing my eyes for a second to enjoy the fresh air against my heated skin. There is something different about today, I think and look back to the city, the lights glistening before I start my run again, back to the apartment to get ready for the day.

* * *

"Want something?" I ask my partner as I start to slow down and come to a halt next to our favorite coffee bar.

"The usual." He replies, browsing the newspaper. I nod and make my way over to the shop that can be easily overseen beside the blinking signs of the other franchise coffee chains next to it. I don't like that everything has to be difficult or more complicated today to be good and prefer places like _Amity coffee_ over any other. Besides one of my friends and coworker's wife and mother of his children working here they also don't make a fuss when it comes to something as simple as coffee and a sandwich. And the atmosphere is relaxing.

"Eric, nice to see you!" A friendly voice greets me over the chiming of the door bell as I enter the shop. I shake out my jacket slightly.

"Mar, how's everything?" I ask, going up to the woman and embracing her for a moment over the counter.

"Oh, you know. Oz finally sleeps through the nights, Jen is crying a lot because she has to go to the kindergarten and Zeke is close to tears every time it's his turn to take her but other than that everything's good. Really good." She answers, already starting my extra strong coffee and putting two ham sandwiches into a brown paperbag.

"Good to hear." I answer, leaning back against the counter and enjoy the smell of fresh coffee, organic food and the homey feeling to the small coffee bar.

"How are things for you?" She asks back, waving her hand to dissolve the fog from the old brewing machine.

"Good. Vacation is finally over and I look forward to be back in business." Marlene smirks shortly, shaking her head.

"It had to be a pain in the ass to stay away from your job." She says ironically and I smirk in response.

"The last five days were hell." I answer her and she chuckles. She puts down the carrier with the two styrofoam cups and the bag in front of me and I search for my wallet.

"You know, anyone else would enjoy a few days away from a job like yours." Marlene says, her voice laced with worry, warm smile on her face.

"Well, you know me. I am insufferable without anything useful to do." I answer her lightly before leaning forward and embracing her again in goodbye.

"Yeah, workaholic. Greet Four for me and be careful." She calls after me as I make my way over to the door.

"Always am!" I call back over my shoulder before going outside again.

* * *

When we enter the station a smile pulls at my lips at the chaos that greets us. Four sighs next to me, shaking his head slightly and starts his way up the stairs to our desks. I stay behind a bit, the loud ringing of the phone, the different voices and sound of the moving people engulfing me, welcoming me back to the job I couldn't live without.

Taking two steps at a time I follow my partner, eager to get started and hoping for one or two big cases. Maybe something with drugs or a nice murder. My mother would scold me for wishing something like this but I can't help it. Solving crimes, fighting injustice and violence, putting the bad guys behind closed doors is something that gives me a purpose, lets me feel needed and strong. And it chases away the guilt and anger.

Tobias and I take up our respectable chairs in a corner of the big office, hanging our jackets over the coat hanger to let them dry and start our day with going through mails and letters. I am a bit disappointed to find out that I don't have a new case yet, the upbeat feeling slowly vanishing, making me grumpy. I concentrate on the new lists from Interpol instead and smirk when I see that one name is missing.

"So they finally caught David?" I speak up and meet Four's eyes, a mirroring expression of victory on his face.

"Yeah, two days ago. Was captured in Arizona about to finish up a deal for new girls from East Europe." He replies satisfaction lacing his voice. David was a fanatic who believed in genetic purity and was as bad as Josef Mengele, experimenting with the girls and boys not older than sixteen he brought for his projects. We discovered one of his labs a year ago and even after nearly ten years working as a police officer and detective the scene was bad enough to cause nightmares and some of our colleagues needed psychological help afterwards.

* * *

When lunch rolls around we make our way through the office only to be stopped by someone calling our name. We backtrack to the open door to the office of our commander.

"You have a new case, Eaton, Coulter." Max says as we lean into his office. I frown slightly because he sounds stressed and ask myself if it has something to do with the case or his wife who is constantly nagging him about something or another. Which, of course, leads to many jokes throughout the department. But all in good humor. We respect Max for his fierce personality and great sense of justice when it comes to promotions, praise and wage. And he is a legend, his career picture perfect and clean – not something everybody can say about him- or herself. I can't say it.

"First degree murder. She is already sitting in the interrogation room. Here is the file." I see Tobias raising his eyebrows, mirroring my own expression. Statistically murder is a men's domain, especially murder that involves torture or a great deal of violence to qualify as first degree. Tobias steps up to Max, taking the file, but Max doesn't let go and speaks up again.

"Work fast but thorough. And no word to the press. They will hound the office soon enough if the news get out." The crease between his brows is pronounced even more now and I ask myself what could be so important about a case of murder even though it is first degree. We nod to Max and he watches us for a moment before he nods as well, dismissing us.

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_Thanks for reading - review please._


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Hello everyone. Hope you aren't too angry that it took a while to upload this. Feel free to review with anything that bothers you. And if you want, take a look at my other stories, too._

_Not beta-ed yet._

_If anyone wants to burden him- or herself with being my beta, feel free to write me. I have high expactations, though._

_Disclaimer: I own nothing, Veronica Roth does._

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**Chapter 2**

Because the suspect is already in the interrogation room we also use the time for a special technique on them: We let them wait. Time will tell or something like that. It works mostly and because the suspect is a woman I doubt she will keep her mouth shut for long. Women tend to be more emotional and the guilt she has to feel for committing a crime like murder – first degree or not – will break her soon enough without us pressuring her in hour long cross-fire interrogations. If she really is the murderer that is.

Tobias leans back in his chair, brows furrowed and gives me the file. His face is pale and I raise my eyebrow when he doesn't speak up to tell me what he thinks. Instead he starts typing away on his laptop. I frown but take the file, opening it and search for the first thing I need to start the thought process for this case.

I take a sip from my coffee when I find the documents I will need firstly and I think if I had tried to brace myself before looking at them it wouldn't have helped the anger or disbelief I now feel. The pictures are pure gore, the victims head smashed in, stomach opened and the organs spilling out of it. On a close-up photo I can see that the throat sports a deep cut, on another open fractured hands are displayed. Whoever did this was in for more than plain killing. Robbery is off the list just like that. The wounds and injuries speak of personal involvement, of hate and the will to torture. My stomach churns for a moment.

I skim through the report of the forensic department – our contact for this case coincidentally Zeke, the husband of Marlene – and try to concentrate on the facts ignoring my personal feelings. I feel my eyes widen when I read the name of the victim: Jeanine Matthews. She is – no, was – a celebrated neuroscience specialist at the _EIT – Erudite Institute of Technology _and helped greatly in finding new ways to cure different illnesses like depression, schizophrenia and other mental remedies developing new pills. I also know from reading her working papers that she was researching new ways to cure disseminated sclerosis. Who would kill a person like her who did so many great and useful things to better our world?!

I browse through the list of witnesses, four persons living near the victim and her personal secretary Cara. The weapons that were used for the crime are still in the examination unit a short note says. I think if the guys from the forensic laboratory come up with anything it is only to strengthen the already quite clear case. Tobias voice interrupts my thoughts and I look up, closing the file.

"Should be an easy one." He says from in front of me, our desks facing each other. I nod and know that he is as disturbed as I am. I rub my face again, the heels of my hands massaging my eyes before sighing.

"Yeah, I guess so." I take a short look at the clock, rubbing my forehead for a moment and nod to myself.

"Who is the suspect?" I ask, my fingers going through my hair to ease the tension I feel.

"We don't have a file yet. Peter is working on coming up with anything possible. As far as we know she is a 23 year old, white woman, job, family, friends. Normal." Tobias answers, his hand occupied with drumming an unrhythmic tune on his desk.

"Not much then." I grumble pulling at my short darkblonde strands, frowning slightly, "Did she call someone yet?" Tobias searches through his papers for a moment and pulls a sheet out shortly after. He shakes his head before speaking up.

"According to the officers that arrested her, she told them to keep their noses out of her business and nothing more when they told her she could call someone." I raise my eyebrow.

"So she pleads innocent?" I ask and my frown deepens when Tobias shakes again his head and puts the report away.

"Nope. Guilty." He answers and I think he is as confused as I am.

"What the fuck?" I mumble and scratch my stubble covered cheek.

"Language, Eric." A woman says next to me. I smirk and lean back in my chair, purposefully looking her up and down to show my appreciation for her pregnant state. Often enough Edward told us that she feels insecure to look like a wobbling whale. Because of that and because we go a while back, even dated for a short two months – very heated and sexually busy two months –, I make it my business to let her feel wanted and attractive.

"You know you like my dirty mouth, Myra." I answer her and she laughs softly in response, swatting my shoulder lightly before her hand goes back to her protruding stomach.

"Gross." Tobias mumbles and my smirk broadens.

"As if you are one to talk, Eaton. I could think of nicer things to see than your naked behind doing your girlfriend in the kitchen." She replies, voice playfully serious, her mouth pulled into a playfully disgusted expression. My mind flashes back to a memory of her on her knees in front of me and I shake my head to concentrate again. I really need to get laid.

"Well, we weren't aware..." Four tries to reply, eyes glinting and cheeks lightly colored but Myra interrupts him, her hormones probably still running wild because she normally is a humble, nice and polite girl. And what a naughty girl she can be, too. I groan slightly and take my cup into my hand, taking a large gulp from my still hot coffee, the slight burn hopefully keeping my mind on track.

"Oh, cut it, Four. We called you an hour before we arrived that we would be there shortly." She rolls her eyes when he huffs and I shake my head at them both.

"As much as I am all up to belittle him, lets get down to business. What can we do for you, love?" I say, voice professional now and look up to Myra biting her lip, her eyes that were playfully glinting a moment ago now clouded with something I can't put a name to.

"I have the results from the forensic examination of the weapon." She says, her voice a bit darker, the banter forgotten.

"Can you give us a short overview?" Tobias asks, his hands clasped on his desk now, back straight. I copy his posture, the impending interrogation again at the forefront of my mind.

"We found her fingerprints on the weapons used." Myra says, her right hand drawing circles on her baby bum to probably calm herself down, the motion a bit frantic and I hope she can soon take a leave from a job that is too stressful for a pregnant woman, a woman like her anyway.

"Weapons?" Four pipes up and Myra sends him a serious look.

"Well, you have seen the pictures, haven't you?" She replies and now I know what I saw in her eyes. Disgust. She is repulsed by the crime, maybe even more so because someone of her own gender is the main suspect – the only suspect really – and it's normally hard enough to understand murder as a concept itself, not to talk about the gore scene the woman we are about to question left behind. Tobias nods and makes a gesture for her to continue. Myra takes a deep breath and I guess it's even harder for her because she carries a new life under her heart while someone else took one carelessly, brutally.

"As I said, her fingerprints where all over the weapons. A knife mostly used by rangers and a normal hammer. There are pictures of the weapons in here," she shows us the file before putting it down on my desk, "and if you need to run more tests, you have my number."

"Did you find any DNA on it... I mean, except the victim's." I ask, voice as low as hers when I take in the amount of blood on them. Myra really is fantastic in her field when she could still find useful fingerprints in this mess.

"Yes, we are still running the tests, but by the look of it, it's hers." She replies and I nod, running my thumb over my lip.

"Thank you, Myra. If we have further questions, we'll find you." Myra nods, throws us a shaky smile and turns around, vanishing down the stairs at the other end of the office. We stay silent for a few minutes, my thoughts going through different scenarios and motives only to come up with nothing. It's always difficult to think like a criminal and apart from the gruesome details we already discovered there is just something about this case that doesn't sit right with me.

She obviously had enough time to torture Jeanine Matthews or took her time without caring if she would be discovered or not. That or she was too far gone in her killing spree? I have to wait until a bit later when I see her to gauge her level of sanity. Maybe it would be good to call a psychologist as well? I will have to speak with Four about it later.

Insane or not, the report from the forensic medicine unit stated, that the whole procedure lasted from 30 to 60 minutes, Matthews suffering minor wounds, was beaten a few times before slowly being carved up. Maybe she went unconscious from the blood loss and didn't woke up again, hadn't to feel her organs spilling out of her body. One could only hope for that and I swallow thickly.

Even though there aren't many things that face me there is something about her death that disturbs me deeply. Maybe it's the circumstances. She lived in a good neighborhood, was respected by many, maybe even loved by some, was a genius in her field, did many things to help humanity, dedicated her life to better our world. But in the end it didn't help her, didn't protect her. She was killed just like that, teared away from life for whatever reasons. Though as a detective I have to find out what motives a criminal had to commit a crime I don't think there is anything that could justify this... torture.

Another question is triggered when I look at the list of witnesses again: there are five of them and no one called for help? Why didn't someone call the police or did really anything to help the woman? Maybe the four strangers wouldn't go so far as to risk their lives to safe someone they barely if at all know. But her assistant – Cara Lewis – was there as well. So why didn't she do something? It would have been enough to call the police because they are fast enough in the part of town where Matthews lived to reach a crime scene in under six minutes. It was a small call and maybe the scientist would still be alive. It makes me suspicious and I add talking to her assistant on the list of things we need to do.

I massage my shoulder slightly, feeling a headache slowly coming and search in my desk for the painkillers I always keep around for situations like this. I throw the pill as far back in my mouth without having to gag and gulp it down with a lot of water. I hate taking pills. Tobias watches me, a certain knowing glance in his eyes.

"To be 20 again." He says and all I can do is nod grimly. I would kill for a spliff if this day goes on like this but I can't risk it, wouldn't, because this job is my life.

"You know, maybe they legalize it..." I grumble under my breath and Four chuckles.

"I think we should go out for a drink tonight." He says and the idea sounds good to me. A few beers, maybe a nice lady, preferably a bit shorter than normal, with long hair and sinful lips that she doesn't only use to talk about bullshit and laugh hysterically with... a man can dream and I know that someone like that doesn't exist. I know I look for perfection, or at least for the person that represents perfection for me. I groan slightly, rubbing my face for a moment and roll my shoulders afterwards. She should be ready now.

"Waited long enough. Should start the interrogation now." I say, pushing my stool back and stand up, Four following my lead, his face grim for a few seconds before he puts on his mask, the professional Detective Eaton making an appearance. I grab the file before we start our way out of the office and to one of the interrogation rooms.

Before we enter the room we take a look through the one way mirror to gauge the atmosphere and the state the person that is about to encounter us is in. Sometimes we aren't the right choice for certain cases because we are tall and mostly intimidating, I more so than Tobias. Some people who wait in the interrogation room for whatever reason don't respond well to us, closing up or freaking out and we have to get one of our female detectives instead who also take up the cases concerning domestic violence or rape.

I look at first at Four, wait for his reaction to prepare myself and to get a first feeling for the situation inside the room without being overwhelmed myself – I admit openly that he is the calmer of us two and his reaction often helps me to find my own balance. He narrows his eyes for a moment before a confused and taken aback frown enters his features. So it's nothing he has expected. When he throws me a barely there worried glance I frown and I try to brace myself when I turn to the one way mirror. What greets my eyes is nearly too much to take in and now I know why my partner looked at me like that. I feel my eyes widen in disbelief. _They have the wrong person_, is my first thought and the first thing I say.

"What makes you think so besides that she is easily the woman you were always looking for?" I scowl at him and he cringes.

"Sorry, that was uncalled for." He says and I nod, my eyes fixed on the woman behind the glass.

"Just look at her, look behind the mask. She isn't the person who is responsible for it. Never. She is innocent." I say, voice strong and I am totally honest. She can't be the one.

"Well, lets get in there and find out, shall we?" Tobias doesn't seem to be faced by the person in front of us maybe because he can't see what I see, because I am all for details while he is the specialist for general observations, for gauging atmospheres, for speaking to persons, while I am the one standing back and know when someone is lying. He elbows me lightly and I clench my hands for a moment. I nod once more and we enter the room.

"Beatrice Prior." Tobias speaks up, taking the chair opposite to her and nods in greeting. She doesn't reciprocate and the only reaction she shows is already enough to make me realize that I will have a hard time sticking to my rules.

"It's Tris." Is all she says and there is fire in her eyes.

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_Thanks for reading - review please._


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Hey there. Thank you so much for your encouraging reviews. I hope you enjoy this and leave me a few words._

_Not beta-ed yet._

_Disclaimer: Don't owe anything that is recognizable as Divergent. Veronica Roth does._

* * *

She looks at us for a few seconds before averting her eyes, letting them fix on something behind us. Her petite body is dressed in black snug pants, black converse and a bandshirt from _The Smiths_. Taking in her slightly disheveled hair and lightly smudged make-up she probably was arrested at home, maybe after she got off from work? I have to read the report to really know.

"I did it. Put me into prison already." Tris says, hands with short, clean nails clasped in front of her on the desk between her and Tobias in a relaxed posture. Her wrist are a bit black-blue with bruises and small scratches and I guess she fought against the police officers that captured her after she murdered someone so brutally. There are cuffs around her wrists now as well but she holds herself like a queen, her eyes full of fire and voice strong. I can't take my eyes off of her. Petite body, pure features with just the tiniest bit of make-up, grey-blue eyes. I think determination and sense strength.

I have to look over her shoulder for a moment because her whole being fills my mind. I have to stay focused. I remind myself of the pictures I have seen, of the genius lost to the world and the presumably great things she would have done for humanity. I have to remind myself that in front of me sits a suspect that probably committed first degree murder. I feel myself fall back into my role of Detective Coulter and put the mask, I already came up with when I read the file, onto the slim and petite body of Tris. And then there is my anger I always can count on. That and my sarcasm.

"Eager, aren't you? Looking forward to all the drugs and violence in the prison? Or are you one of the criminals who wants to be put to death in a great show of superiority? If that's what you wish for chances are slim to none – at least when it comes to glory for your crime." I see her shoulders tense, her eyes flickering from Four to me, probably taking in the person that just insulted her in more than one way and made clear that he believes her to be guilty.

"She deserved what she got." She says, nervousness falling away from her in an instant and I feel challenged. '_Deserved what she got?_'. My temper flares, lets me take two quick steps forward and lean over the table. I fish the pictures out of the file and throw them down in front of her. She doesn't even blink and I feel respect raise within me, the twisted sort of.

"Look at them and say it again." I dare her, my eyes fixed on her next reaction, on her face. She does look at the pictures, but only for a second. I see the slight change in her complexion, her cheeks not as healthily rosy anymore. I see the corners of her lips moving just the tiniest bit in shock if I have to guess and I know I found something she obviously doesn't want anyone to find. I stand straight again, using my tall and muscular frame to intimidate her and I see her neck move slightly when she swallows. I take my spot at the wall up again, satisfied.

"Don't you think I know what I did?" She asks meeting my eyes from across the room, challenging me again. I smirk at her even though nothing is funny about this situation or her reaction. I think she says that to cover up her slip up because she is aware I saw it. '_You can tell someone lies when they repeat the same fact again and again and insist on telling the truth_', my mother's words echo in my mind for a moment.

She bites her lip and my concentration wavers slightly. My eyes go back to hers and there is a nervous glint in them. After interacting with her for only ten minutes I know she isn't the person she wants us to believe she is. It's a facade and I am eager to look behind it. Tobias throws me a certain glance that tells me to stay silent for the moment and that he isn't happy with my display. I lean back against the wall, will apologize later and let him start our usual procedure, my initial curiosity and forced anger in check again.

"I am Detective Eaton and this is Detective Coulter. We are the ones responsible to investigate the crime of first degree murder against Jeanine Matthews." He tells her, voice laced with calmness I know he doesn't feel because he empathizes too much with the victims and sometimes with the suspects as well. Her tongue wets her full, pink lips and she straightens in her chair, eyes again full of fire.

"What's there to investigate? I already told you I did it." She answers, her brows furrowed lightly and I just know from the way her eyes move from me to Four that she is nervous and angry. I think she isn't aware that the way she put her words gives away so much more than she wants us to see. She seems too eager, the echo of my mother's words still in my mind.

"Well, Tris. It's our job to see if the things you say are true, whether you admit your crime or not." Four sounds calm and relaxed, plays the role of understanding and professional detective to perfection. He is always the guy that suspects lean to when spilling their dirty secrets, maybe because they hope he absolutes them of their guilt or something twisted like that. She doesn't seem to fall for it, though, leans back and observes him calculatingly, as if she can see right through him. Tris narrows her eyes for a moment, a small satisfied look on her hypnotizing lips and maybe it's the look of a murderer to anyone else but me.

Four looks at me for a moment but he should really watch her. She is a book I want to read, I want to lose myself in. I grit my teeth. Her body says one thing unconsciously. Her planned actions let me think she is an actress too good to be not a professional one. She is an enigma.

"You say you murdered Mrs. Matthews and we have to make sure that you don't try to cover for someone else up. So lets talk, ok?" He continues. She bites her rosy bottom lip when she nods and I feel my eyes are drawn to the uncertain gesture again, to the way her white teeth bore into the soft flesh, the way her lip is a bit redder because of the pressure she puts on it, blood rushing into the tissue. I don't know if she acts again, but my mind is invaded with a picture of her laying under me, biting her lip in ecstasy instead of nervousness. I think she wouldn't act then.

The rattling of the chains her cuffs are bound with draws me away from my thoughts and I scowl at myself and my so out of character and unprofessional thoughts. I have to stay focused to read her when Four starts the questioning. We handle things that way and I can't let my partner down. I can't let myself down.

"So, Tris, how did it happen from your perspective?" Four begins with the general, all around question to later pick apart her answers. Before she can answer the door next to me is opened in a rush and a tall man with blond hair and an expensive coat enters the interrogation room.

"What are you doing here?!" Tris hisses angrily through gritted teeth and her hands are clenched tighter now. Her shoulders are tense and her eyes narrowed. They glint with something I cannot see right now and I wait for the man to answer.

"Chris called me. Didn't they let you make a call?" He asks, putting his also expensive brown briefcase down on the table like he owns the place and starts to undo the buttons of his coat throwing accusing glances in Tobias' and my direction now and again. I roll my eyes in annoyance, already having enough of the man.

"I don't need you here and I didn't want to call you." She answers and her whole posture suddenly shows indifference. It's like a button is pressed inside of her and her anger vanishes. She should show me how she does it because I know how much control someone needs to do that. I struggle with it most of the time.

Tris leans back in her chair and starts to look at her nails, completely ignoring the scowl the man sends her. He huffs and opens his briefcase. I hear a small growl from Four and smirk for a short second because he already reached the end of his patience. Normally that is my part but I let him have the stage.

"Well, _I_ want to know who you are and why you barge into an interrogation." He says, voice laced with annoyance. I look at Tris for a moment, her calculating look taking in Tobias and ask myself what she thinks. But this time her facial expression doesn't give anything away and I look back to the suit-clad man. The man narrows his eyes for a moment at Tris before turning to us, face changing into a to-the-point professional expression. He extends a hand, the other goes into his pocket to come out with a business card he gives Four. He takes a short look at it before he holds it out to me over his shoulder.

"Excuse me gentlemen. My name is Will Lewis and I am the lawyer of Miss Prior." She snorts and I have to suppress a smirk. Quite the spitfire, isn't she.

"I don't want you here, Will." She says, her eyes concentrated on the eyes of the man, a mixture of anger and strangely enough entreaty in her grey-blues. Something is definitely not right here and I am eager to find out what.

"I don't care what you want, Tris." The Lewis guy answers her, his voice laced with decisiveness and anger as well. She averts her eyes to her hands then and suddenly looks small and insecure. I am fascinated that she seems to have so many facets to her – acted or not – and I can't deny that it draws me in like a moth to the light.

"If you would excuse us now, gentlemen. She won't answer any of your questions before she talked to me." Mr. Lewis fixes us with a hard stare and Four sighs. He stands up, nodding his head and leaves the room. I take a last look at the suspect, her eyes full of fire meeting mine, burning something within me and I like the sting.

* * *

I launch back in my chair, sipping my coffee and wait for Tobias to come back with the documents we requested two hours ago. My eyes stray back to the picture on my desk next to the case file. It's of the suspect as the police officers took her into custody. She holds a shield with a number in her hand and the measurement tape behind her tells me she is only 1,58 m tall. And even though the picture isn't to her advantage she looks breathtaking. There is something in her eyes that lets me look at it every few moments. Defiance and determination, her jaw set in a proud way, her shoulders squared – but it could always be my imagination and my too long absence from anything remotely close to sex or woman in general that lets me feel fascination and even attraction for the suspect - _Tris_.

"You won't believe it." Tobias says next to me and lets a folder fall down onto her picture effectively shutting down my cheap try to not look at the picture constantly. I raise an eyebrow and look at him. He looks disturbed.

"What is it?" He points to the folder instead of answering verbally and sits down in his office chair opposite to me. I look at him again and discover he rubs his face tiredly. What's up with the sudden tension? I sigh and open the document slowly. My eyes find a picture of her, of our suspect, dressed in a dark-blue dress, smiling from in between other people around her age. One of them looks like her lawyer Will and I ask myself if they are involved engaging in games of '_lawyer and accused' _in their bedroom or shared flat. I ask myself if their game suddenly has another meaning because if she keeps saying she murdered Matthews she will be transferred to the prison at the end of the day or as soon as her avowal is recorded and no hot sex will follow. I shake my head to stop my thoughts. Focus, dammit.

I look at her face again, pure and pretty, at the kind upturn of her lips in it, eyes glinting even if it is just a split second captured on slightly yellowed photo paper. In the short time I have interacted with her, I have seen many expressions and facets but I am still taken aback at the honest and friendly smile on her face. She just doesn't seem like the kind of murderer that just wakes up and does something like that.

I push the picture to the left side and concentrate on the facts written black on white - _appearance can be deceiving_, my father said – our research team came up with and I make a mental note to buy them an expensive bottle of whiskey because when I browse the information for the first time I already know that they did a damn fantastic job.

Her police file is empty, not even a ticket for parking violation or a record of underage drinking – both entries that nearly everyone has and that even is courteously in most social circles. Her high school and college certificates are probably proudly displayed on the walls of her parents because she was valedictorian for both major sections of her life. Her parents are important, as it seems. Father politician, mother foundress of a private school – a photo shows them at her graduation, both smiling down at her short form, both with pride shining in their eyes. If I ever have a daughter – I snort at the thought, yeah, really likely to happen – I would probably look at her the same way because if she is anything like Tris she would be the picture perfect girl. I look at her parents again, the names written under the photo: '_Andrew and Natalie Prior congratulating our valedictorian Beatrice to end high school at the top of her class_'. That name... that name.. I know that name.

"Prior? She is the daughter of this Prior?!" I ask, voice incredulous and face probably in a funny grimace when I look over to Tobias. He nods, crease between his brows. Andrew was the one who discovered the dirty secret of his coworker and father of my partner Marcus Eaton when they moved to Chicago twelve years ago. He was the one to help Tobias find his own place, organized the therapy he needed and I forced him to do and did everything in his power to help a boy who had been abused for nine long years.

"Do you know Tris then?" His eyes widen, shaking his head and I suppress the sigh of relief that wants to leave my mouth. If he would have been involved with her in any way, even if it was a long time ago, I had to report it and he would have been replaced with someone else. I can't work with anyone besides Four. It's a weakness but one I don't care about and I am not ashamed to admit. I need the best to be at my best, to do the things I want to do and achieve.

"I never met Andrew's family. I wasn't even aware he had one until two years after I entered college with you and I never met them." I nod at him and he keeps silent again. Emptying my cup I lean forward again, concentration back at the file of our sweet little suspect.

Her school record names different organizations she volunteered at, helping the Disabled, homeless people and retirement homes, played drums in the school band – probably her wild time rebelling against one thing or her parents that's still sugar compared to my own – and wrote for the newspaper. She went to the same school as I did, I discover and I try to remember her but of course can't. I am nearly eight years her senior.

The search in the newspapers comes up with only one result: a picture of her proudly grinning from behind some big pans and pots distributing food on Thanksgiving, an article to go along with it. I wouldn't mind seeing her in my kitchen cooking something I could eat from her slim little body. I frown at my own thoughts, bite my lip and rub my eyes. What is it about her that keeps my mind in the freaking gutter? She is a suspect, nothing more and her big grey-blue eyes, her good looks won't change that she may or may not tortured another human to death. I have to focus on that, not condemning her but keep the balance.

My balance seems to be a fragile little thing though, broken by my next and last discovery: she works at a primary school as a teacher. I lean back and close my eyes. She is a teacher and her soft features are enough for me to know that I wouldn't mind if she would educate me on certain subjects. I groan and don't need to look in Four's direction to know that he frowns at me. I would like to frown at myself as well but I can't because she is a freaking teacher and anyone that knows me is aware that I have a soft spot for people working with children. At least for the ones with soft curves and long hair, kind smiles and fiery eyes, sharp minds and rosy lips. I am aware that she is like a dream come true and some part of me is deeply satisfied with finding her. The other is raging because she probably used knifes, a hammer and her own feet to torture a woman to death.

"You know where she works?" Four guesses and I nod. _Abnegation School of Kind Hearts_ is a private primary school for parents with a low budget. They need to pay next to nothing for their children to get the best education possible, the school financially independent because there are enough people out there that want to buy themselves a clean conscience. It was founded twenty years or so ago by the mother of our suspect. The school's motto: '_The direction in which education starts a man will determine his future in life_'*. She wanted to give children from poor families the same chances everyone else has, focused on educating them not only on hard facts about science, math, literature and geography, but also art, ethics, morals and selflessness. She even came up with an integration program for children from migrated families to ease their way into our society. It's only half past three but I am tired to the bone. I close the damn file of my picture perfect woman. _Tris. _The acting teacher, the murdering woman of my dreams. I need more coffee.

"Whats next?" I ask, rubbing my cheeks.

"Lets take a look into the interrogation room, maybe they decided what to do... and afterwards we have to start the investigation." Tobias answers and stands up, stretching.

"You didn't tell me what you thought.. if she is guilty or not." I say as we make our way down the corridor.

"That's because I don't know yet." He answers and crosses his arms when we look through the one way mirror again.

"Not even a small feeling?" Four shakes his head and I know it bothers him to no end. I avert my eyes then, look into the room and chuckle at the scene. Her lawyer leans on the desk, one hand bracing him against the metallic surface the other making wild gestures. Tris looks serene, calm, composed, distant. I think I like her more when there is this fire in her eyes.

"We should get going." I say and Four nods. I open the door slowly, their voices now reaching our ears.

"Tris... you have to..." Her lawyer says, voice laced with desperation. Well, if I would be her boyfriend I would curse the shit out of her for pretending that she murdered someone, going to jail for the rest of her life if the judge is friendly. If not it means death.

"No." Her voice is calm, serious and then she looks at me again, not calculatingly like she observed Four but with indifference. Is this one of her masks as well? Her lawyer bites his lip.

"Think about it, Tris. This is madness..." He pleads for the last time and she shakes her head, a silent sigh leaving her lips. I see her hands moving slightly and I think she has to suppress a nervous gesture. When she speaks again her voice is laced with determination.

"Its my decision."

* * *

_As always: Thank you for reading. Review please because it helps me to improve._


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